


Rub Til It Bleeds

by ninhursag



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Canon Compliant, Domestic Violence, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Trauma, sex and feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 12:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20488973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninhursag/pseuds/ninhursag
Summary: Alex and Michael's first time, after the shed.He's already signed the enlistment papers when he tracks down Michael's truck. His body hurts, bone deep, but there's nothing wrong with him that can't be hidden by his clothes. The recruiting sergeant didn't notice





	Rub Til It Bleeds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lambourn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lambourn/gifts).

> This takes place about two weeks after the shed and Rosa. Michael and Alex are both a total mess, physically and emotionally.

He's already signed the enlistment papers when he tracks down Michael's truck. His body hurts, bone deep, but there's nothing wrong with him that can't be hidden by his clothes. The recruiting sergeant didn't notice.

Michael's parked out by the junkyard and he's asleep in the back when Alex gets out of his own car and walks over. He looks horrible, bruised eyes and dirty hair.

His left hand is wrapped in bandages.

Alex stops and almost runs away, when Michael's eyes snap open and he sits up fast, frantic. There's a moment of visible panic where Michael is waiting for the blow-- but then he breathes and seems to recognize Alex and stops. Steadies. Tells him to come sit.

"Hey, Alex, its ok," like he's not in visible pain, like Alex has any right to be here after what happened, what he let happen.

They probably talk. He's pretty sure Michael asks if he's ok and Alex asks about his hand. Maybe not.

They end up under Michael's unzipped sleeping bag. The bed of the truck presses on Alex's bruised, sore body, his ribs, and he shakes. Michael's mouth is soft, desperate, he tastes like cheap alcohol and chemicals, dirty. But his body is warm, like it was that night.

A part of Alex is waiting for dad to show up, to--

But Michael's mouth, his warm, filthy mouth, says, "Alex. Alex. You're here."

And Alex is here. He doesn't say a word, he can't. Not even Michael's name.

They're frantic, much more than the first time, less than two weeks ago in the shed when they had all the time in the world. When they'd thought that--

There's no time now, and Alex's bones hurt, his teeth hurt, but he's kissing Michael Guerin under the stars and it feels desperate, he couldn't stop.

He doesn't take off his clothes, barely unzips Michael's jeans, shoves his hands down until he gets them on Michael's cock, pulls at it dry before Michael bats them away.

Michael's hands are-- his right hand anyway--

"Alex," Michael whimpers into his ear and presses their bodies together, just there, perfectly aligned. "Don't. Don't stop."

It hurts, Michael's hips against his, sharp edge of bone when they thrust together. Hip and rib and sharp wrist, the body of someone who's been hungry for a long time, who has never had enough.

Alex shakes and he hurts and he shoves his own body against Michael's, frantically hard and desperate for friction.

Michael's right hand is in his hair and he doesn't flinch at the pull even though that's where he was grabbed and pulled and that's where... 

He does flinch when Michael forgets and touches him with the left hand, an attempt to hold his hip. Michael doesn't scream, not out loud, but Alex feels it, the harsh draw of agonizing breath. The seizing of muscle, suddenly, painfully still.

Pure pain Michael stifles in Alex's skin and it's terrible, it's the worst thing, worse than a beating, worse than threats. Worse than Jesse Manes by his side in a stifling office, tapping his foot impatiently while his son signed himself over to the US military. Because this is Michael, who doesn't scream, who knows how not to scream. 

Michael who whispers a "sorry, it's fine," and goes right back to kissing him like the pain is fleeting. Like any of this is his fault.

Michael's warm mouth, his tongue that's bloody now, like he bit it, his gentle hand on Alex's spine. Like he's figured out exactly where Alex is hurt without seeing skin.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. What he did to you, I, I'm so," Alex tells him, miserably, pressing the words into the hollow places below his collar.

Michael's right hand clutches at him. His right leg wraps around him, pulling him close. "No, no, don't be. Just stay. Just stay here. I need to tell you, um, there's something I need to tell you, just stay here."

Alex swallows and shuts his eyes. His skin feels wet, he's crying, he needs to stop crying. "Tell me in the morning," he mumbles.

Michael nods against his neck. "I can-- I can still, let me," he starts and then he shakes his head. Licks his palm, slow and easy, and Alex wants to protest that he doesn't need, they're both too wrecked, but Michael unzips his fly and reaches for his cock.

His eyes glint honey warm and he smiles when he realizes that Alex is still gonna let him. Of course. Alex is a stricken mess and he lets his legs fall open and forgets how much his body aches. Michael's body is hot, fever hot, pain hot and he still brings Alex off with the twist of a hand and shaken desperation.

His face, warm eyed and dirty and lined with pain, looking at Alex and nothing else. Like there is nothing else. Alex tries to imprint that on his brain, to carry with him.

He runs, afterward, the moment Michael is asleep. He runs. To his car, to his dad, to his fucked up next step in life as an airman.

At least this time he got out in time, before anyone came looking. This time at least, Michael's safe, sleeping where he left him.

He doesn't leave Michael a note. He can't give him hope when there's none.

The next time they see each other Michael will look safely away. Or they won't see each other, Michael will be gone, free and happy and properly loved.

There isn't another choice.

**Author's Note:**

> Feelings? Thoughts?
> 
> You can also find me as ninhursag at dreamwidth https://ninhursag.dreamwidth.org or ninswhimsy on Tumblr


End file.
